Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Angel M. Devlin
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Copyright © 2020 by Angel Devlin.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Angel Devlin holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Violet
There was a massive fucking hole in the middle of the ceiling. No doubt due to be followed by an equivalent one in my bank balance. I hadn't noticed this when I'd stared through the window of the house that was now mine. Having watched far too many episodes of Homes Under the Hammer than should be deemed healthy for a woman of twenty-two, I should have listened to my gut, to my common sense that said do not buy a property without the proper checks.
Unfortunately, at the auction, my heart had won out over my head. You see, it was my nan's old house. A house I'd spent many a happy hour in as a child and teenager. A place where I'd felt safe and protected, and in my hectic, chaotic childhood that was a rare thing. My nan had passed on a few years ago, but my memories were as fresh as ever as I stood in the living room and stared up straight into what I presumed was my main bedroom.
Driving to my new house this morning, I'd noticed that the corner shop where I'd got my pick ‘n’ mix as a kid was now a mini supermarket and twice the size of the original store. Instead of the fruit and veg shop next door but one, it now had a shop that repaired computers. It was a reminder that things were very different now to those past times, and that I should be looking to the future not chasing ghosts.
Once I’d pulled up in front of the house this morning, I’d been out of my car in seconds, where I’d stared up at the two-bedroomed semi. My first impressions had been favourable. It had looked in need of a lick of paint on the outside which was easily rectifiable. The front garden was overgrown, which I'd expected, but hopefully another quick fix. I’d walked around the back of the house and unlatched the gate into the rear garden. Again, it was overgrown, the grass so long and tough that I couldn't reach the back window to investigate there. I couldn't make out whether the patch of mint my nan had grown remained or whether there was still a gate at the bottom left-hand-side of the back-to-back garden that used to belong to the Waite family.
I wondered if they were still there? If they were and they were still in the house renovation business, then I figured I needed their help. Though Nana Marj would turn in her grave, having decided they weren’t suitable types for me to mix with all those years ago.
I carefully walked upstairs to survey the rest of my new purchase. The stairs seemed structurally okay, although the carpet was dirty. The bathroom was in need of a new suite as soon as possible. My bedroom indeed had the large mysterious hole in the middle of the floor, so I didn't enter that room. The smaller bedroom on the back looked out over the garden jungle. Paper was peeling off the walls and half of the room's walls were damp to the touch, thus ruling out the possibility of my using this room temporarily. It looked like I was making camp in the living room, albeit well away from the ceiling hole. My savings had been used to buy this house and to hopefully leave enough in the bank for redecoration. I couldn't afford to waste any of it on renting or hotel fees. Now though as I continued my tour, it seemed that every last penny I had was going to end up on making the house safe, never mind treating myself to some designer bedding.
From the back window of the living room, I could see a small amount of the garden that used to belong to the Waite family. It'd been eight years since I'd last been here. I wondered if any of them were still around or whether they'd all moved on? The Waite family had lived in the largest house on the estate with six bedrooms. When I'd been younger it'd been like a castle. I still couldn't tell whether the gate was there in the corner. The one my nan had fixed a padlock to. Only once, I'd been allowed into the Waite’s garden to play with Juliet Waite. We'd have been about seven. We'd had a great time and she'd told me how boring it was being the youngest of six and having five older brothers who got on her nerves. Then the gate was relocked and never opened again. I remembered she'd had one of those plastic playhouses. I was super envious and heartbroken that the gate remained permanently closed. I had no idea what had happened between the Dawson’s and the Waite’s, just that I was to never talk to them again if I saw them, which to be honest, I rarely did, because from then on I was largely encouraged to stay in the house.
My stomach rumbled which reminded me that I'd not checked out the kitchen yet. There was no separate dining room in the property, though there was room in the living room near the back window; but my nan had always had a table in the kitchen and that's what I intended to do. Walking into the kitchen revealed units with cupboard doors that were misaligned, and worse of all, they were brown with tobacco stains. I dry-heaved at the stuffy smell. There was an old carpet down: a migraine-inducing floral pattern in browns, greens, and oranges. It was threadbare and covered with burn marks in one corner where a square revealed a newer looking piece of carpet. A chair had once been here, its owner careless with fag ends. Nostalgia hit as I looked at the door at the left-hand side of the kitchen which led to a downstairs toilet; it had been a source of fright in my childhood. Positioned next to the outer main side door, the toilet had always been freezing cold with an old latch that had a tendency to get stuck. I'd once been in there for what seemed like hours to a little girl but was more than likely a few minutes at most, convinced the ghosts of the house were going to get me. I wasn't let out of my nan's protective sight for long, so I’m sure it was no time at all, but I’d been scared half to death and never locked the door again after that. My eyes widened as I realised it was still there, almost exactly how I remembered it. Still with its green painted wooden door, still an extra coat colder than the rest of the non-heated house. There was no central heating fitted, so it was a good job I'd brought a small heater with me this morning, just in case it turned cold, although the day was proving warm so far. I don’t know who’d had this house after my nan, but they’d done nothing much to it other than let it rot. Evidence of gouged out plaster on the walls revealed a rewire of the electrics had taken place, so I hoped that was one less thing needing doing. I’d still have it all checked by an electrician. However, I decided to risk plugging in the kettle I'd brought to make myself a cup of tea. I had a bed and a fridge freezer due to be delivered between eight and ten pm, so I'd brought a carrier bag containing the kettle, one mug, a pint of milk, three teabags and a packet of milk chocolate digestives with me. Once the fridge freezer was in situ I’d be able to shop. Everything else I owned—which wasn't much following my divorce—was in the back of my Ford Focus, a car that matched my house in terms of the state of it.
The July day was a hot one, and the digestives had bit the dust fast, meltin
g into a sludge of chocolate on the plastic wrapper, so I grabbed my handbag and locking the door behind me I started for the corner shop. I figured I may as well buy lunch and treat myself to some non-melting goodies to cheer myself up. The mini-supermarket was located on a crescent around six minutes’ walk away. As I got further from the house, I laughed at my locking the front door. It already looked like it had been burgled, why had I even bothered?
I paused as I passed the end of Stather Road, the street the Waites’ house was on. I lifted onto my tiptoes to try to see if the house was still as I remembered but it was too far up the road and out of sight on the tree-lined street. Sighing, I continued to the shop. As I approached, it confirmed what I’d seen on my brief drive past. What used to be Mrs Smith's sweet shop was now a Robins’ branch, a generic shop that most neighbourhoods had. The shop next door, that used to sell toys, had been demolished so that Robins’ took over two spaces. More inner pangs hit my stomach on entering as I saw there wasn't a single memory remaining from the past. Or maybe it was hunger? I bought myself a bland packaged sandwich, recalling that there had been a bakery on the crescent at one point selling not only baked goods but meats. Their roast pork sandwiches had been legendary. To try to improve the taste of my lunch I added a packet of cheese and onion crisps to my basket and a bottle of Coke.
“You'd be better off with an apple and a bottle of water,” a male voice advised from behind me.
I turned to discover a man snooping at the contents of my basket. I scowled at him.
“I'd be better with a double cheeseburger, and a vodka in the coke.” I huffed and turned away. Cheeky fucker. How dare he pass comment on my shopping? I’d spent my short marriage being judged for every decision I made; I didn’t need it from strangers.
He put a hand on my arm, making me step back. For fuck’s sake. Couldn’t I buy a sandwich in peace?
“Sorry. I know I should mind my own business, but I'm a newly qualified fitness instructor and can't seem to help myself. That’s my excuse anyway and I’m sticking with it.”
I looked him over. Tall, dark hair, clean shaven. Too skinny for me, though his physique was toned. I liked more meat on my men. He had the most amazing brown eyes though, like dark chocolate. I realised I'd so obviously just given him the once over and felt my face heat.
He held out his hand and I shook it, my inbuilt politeness not allowing me to ignore him and head to the checkout.
“Can we start over?”
I nodded.
“Excuse me for striking up a conversation with you, but as I said I'm a newly qualified fitness instructor. I'm randomly starting conversations with people and handing out my cards in case they or any of their friends feel like getting fit.” He reached into his pocket and handed me a card.
I stared at it as I heard him say the words.
“This is me. Silas Waite.”
My eyes snapped to his, and for a moment my mouth parted in surprise. “Do you live around here then?” I asked him, trying to sound casual while my heart began skipping a beat.
“Yes. Big house just around from here on Stather Road.”
I gulped. Fucking hell. Was it just him or were they all still there?
“I'm Violet Blake.” I introduced myself. “I just moved onto Redwood Road, number forty-two.”
“Never.” Silas smiled. “That house is just over the garden from ours.”
“So, do you live there with your wife?” I pushed. A knowing smirk quirked his lips.
I sighed and rubbed at my forehead. “God, I'm sorry. That sounded like a huge pick-up line.” I met his gaze directly. “Listen. You're good looking, but I don't have any romantic interest in you. I wasn’t flirting, just making conversation, and once again I engaged my mouth before I engaged my brain. It’s quite usual for me.”
Silas made a dramatic falling action, pretending to hold himself up against the shelf of tinned goods. “Way to make a guy feel good, and a sexy fitness instructor at that.”
I quirked a brow. “I'm sure you'll live.” Something told me this man was a total player. My fascination with the Waites had bordered on obsessive since my nan would never discuss any of them and I’d built up a picture of them in my mind, so seeing a real-life one had me a little overwhelmed.
“I will.” He grinned. “So, no, I don't live with my wife. I don't want a wife. Why stick with just one woman when you can have a whole harem, or in my case a whole class, dressed in tight lycra and cropped tops?”
I rolled my eyes and he grinned before his expression turned more serious.
“It's my dad's place and I live there with four brothers and a sister. Yes, we should have moved out by now bearing in mind we range in age from twenty-two to twenty-nine. I'm the oldest by the way. Don't look it, do I?” He waggled his brows and then gave up when he realised I really wasn’t lusting after him in any way, and wasn’t about to give him a compliment. I was too busy wanting him to tell me more about his family. “Anyhow, our dad's desperate for us to all get lost but we like being around each other and have or do work for the family business, so sometimes it’s just a lot easier that we all live together.”
“Are you still in the renovation trade?” I asked.
Now it was Silas' turn to look surprised. “Yeah. Well, I'm juggling that now alongside my fitness stuff, but my brothers and sister are involved. Except Ezra. He's in New York being a star. He'd be scared to break a nail.”
The penny dropped. “Ezra Waite? The actor Ezra Waite is your brother?” Oh my lord. He was a fabulous actor, able to mould himself to any role. I’d no idea he was from Willowfield, never mind one of the Waite brothers.
“Oh God, please don't tell me you’re another of his groupies and have come around here to see where he used to live?”
I stuck a hand on my hip. “No, I'm not. I told you I just moved onto the estate. My nan lived around here all her life. I’m returning to my roots.”
“Your nan?”
“Marj Dawson.”
His jaw dropped for a moment and his eyes widened. “Fuck. Are you Marj Dawson's granddaughter? The one we called Rapunzel because we'd catch the occasional glimpse of your long golden hair, but you were locked in the tower, albeit Marj's house and garden. Not allowed to associate with us oiks.” A look of solving a puzzle swept his features and he smiled.
“The very one. Violet.”
“Bloody hell. I can't wait to get home. Our Milo's going to have a shit fit.”
“Um, why?” I only vaguely remembered Milo Waite and certainly didn’t remember doing anything that would make him have a violent reaction.
“Oh, he used to moon about trying to catch a glimpse of the mystery girl.”
“Really?” I laughed.
“Yep. Can't wait to embarrass him.”
I decide that seeing as I’m stuck on a trip down memory lane, I may as well use this meeting to my advantage. “Listen. I bought my nan's house at auction, and I didn’t get it checked out first.”
I watched as Silas shook his head.
“I know. I should have done, but I just wanted it, whatever it took. Anyway, I don't know who owned it since my nan had it, but it’s a mess. I can't live in it that well as it stands. Could someone from your company come and give me a quote and an idea of what needs doing?”
He nodded his head. “Ah yeah. Bit shady, the people who were in that house.”
“Oh dear.” I wondered what else they’d done to my new property.
“Well, their loss is our gain as a Dawson returns to the fold.” Another grin.
“That wasn't ever my name.”
“Maybe so, but that feisty bloodline’s running through those veins, I can sense it. I tell you what. You head back to yours and eat your disgusting lunch.” He nodded his head towards my basket.
I placed a hand on my hip. “Keep your eyes out of my basket or I will add the vodka.”
He smirked. “I'll be round in an hour or so and I'll bring our best builder.”
“
Really? That would be fab.”
“Not a problem. Can't wait to see what Milo makes of you now.”
“Milo.” I repeated. “He's your best builder?”
“Absolutely. Though I think getting him to concentrate on the house might prove difficult. Catch you later.”
With a wink, he headed off to pay for his bottle of water and a bag of apples, while I pretended to be fixated with the baked beans. The Waites were still there and another one of them was coming round to my house. Maybe they weren't going to remain a mystery to me after all.
Milo
“What the fuck are you grinning at?” I turned to face my eldest brother. “You been eating pussy again for lunch instead of fruit?”
“Nope. Though there's no need for you to be so jealous, just cos you're having a dry spell.”
“Piss off.” I smashed my hammer through the wall I was dismantling. Debris flew at my body. It was a warm day and despite being in shorts and shirtless, sweat still clung to me like a second skin. Dirt gave me an extra layer. I couldn't wait to get a shower, but that wouldn't be happening until this wall was down.
“I've got a job for you to price up.”
“I'm busy.”
“You're not too busy for this. I promise you, Miley, you're going to fucking thank me for this one.”
I wiped my brow and threw down the hammer. “Will you stop trying to fix me up?”
“Hey. That's not what's happening here.”
“Is it a female?”
“Yeah.”
“I'm not coming.”
“It’s the answer to a lifelong question. Think of it as a magical mystery tour.” Silas waggled his brows.
Waiting For Milo: THE WAITE FAMILY - BOOK ONE Page 1
